


Kiss You Goodbye

by thegillovnyway



Category: The X-Files RPF
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Lots of kissing, Love & Hate, complicated relationship, multi-chapter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-18
Updated: 2018-07-18
Packaged: 2019-06-12 14:50:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15342216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegillovnyway/pseuds/thegillovnyway
Summary: No matter what, David and Gillian always say goodbye.





	Kiss You Goodbye

**Author's Note:**

> Remember David saying “I see Gillian I kiss her hello?” What if that’s not the whole truth. What if they kiss whenver they have to say goodbye to each other?

It starts on a whim, caught between a sense of elation and desperation. That first year. When they finish and everyone cajoles and claps, David’s first instinct is to look at Gillian. She, too, is grinning at him, but with tears shimmering in her eyes. Or maybe her eyes are just wet. He loses himself in that thought, and her eyes, when Chris pats him on the back, when others follow the same example. As he is caught up in a conversation, his eyes search for Gillian. It’s only been a year, not even a full one, a single TV season and looking for her has already become a habit to him. David no longer remembers what before was like; before she strolled into his life with her shy smile and crazy laugh. Gillian isn’t shy. Not one bit. It didn’t take him long to find that out. Once she knows what she wants, she will do whatever it takes. David recognizes the trait; he’s the same way.

This last year he hasn’t just gotten to know Gillian. He’s well acquainted with Vancouver. With the gloomy isolation, the rain, the mud. Now he gets to leave. Three whole months without any of this. He’s been waiting impatiently for the last scene and for the last cut! for what seems like weeks now. David wants to go home. Home isn’t Vancouver. Home is L.A. Perrey called him just yesterday just as excited. He is flying home tomorrow morning. It’s what he wants. His eyes find Gillian again. She is on the other side of the set; her laugh is what makes him turn his head. Three months without all of this means three months without Gillian too. Next time he’ll see her (and he will see her again, because they’re coming back), her belly will protrude even further from her small form, ripe with new life. He’s touched it, her still flat tummy. When she told him, right after he admitted that his knees buckled, she took his hand and put it there.

“Is this something you want?” This wasn’t – isn’t – his child. Yet he felt the weight of it on his back and in his heart. Looking into Gillian’s eyes at that moment, happy and pleading with him for something, something, he knew this meant the world. This would define them for years to come. They barely knew each other, merged together by chance, but they were walking this tightrope together with their hands entwined. If one fell, the other would follow.

“I can’t imagine not having it.” Was her simple answer then, in his trailer. When David watches her now, months later, he can’t imagine it either. Her hand keeps wandering to her stomach. The hand with the proof that she belongs to someone. Someone else. The ring catches a rare ray of sunshine and blinds him. It looks clunky on her finger and it crushes his soul. There are things he doesn’t allow himself to think about. This ring, all that comes with it, is one of these things. As if knowing what he’s thinking about (not that he believes in these things; he is not Mulder), she turns to him. The smile she put on for someone else remains there and plays around her lips. Her face is round and soft these days. He thinks he falls in love just a little bit with this look, with all of her. Another thing he puts neatly away as he grins at her from across the set. He doesn’t see anyone else but her. He wonders if it’s the same for her.

When she excuses herself to go to her trailer, David follows her. It’s as easy as that. He catches up with her before she reaches her temporary home on set and his hand settles at the small of her back. An antic that has found its way into the show. When he’s close to Gillian, he needs to touch her. With her pregnancy he at least has an excuse. She is slightly out of breath, her face pink. She looks incredibly cute and he realizes with a pang that he will miss her. Really miss her.

“You okay, David?” She’s been doing this lately; asking people how they’re feeling. She’s always cared, but with her body throwing hormones at her in rapid fires, she is even more attuned to everyone’s well-being. 

“I just wanted to say goodbye. In private.” She lifts her eyebrows coyly before she giggles. She leaves the trailer door open wide so he can follow her inside. Gillian grabs a bottle of water and sits down with a moan. David stares at her and feels thirsty too. Not for water, not necessarily.

“You’re not going to the wrap party on Saturday?” The party is three days from now. He didn’t even think about it when he booked his flight. He could easily change it now. Go there and celebrate. Something inside him itches; maybe he can stay here a few days longer. He’s made it this far.

“I haven’t decided yet. Are you going?” David buries his hands in his pants pockets. He’s still dressed liked Mulder, she’s still Scully. He doubts the two fictional FBI agents would ever talk like this. He feels eerily like he’s 15 years old again, asking his favorite girl out.

“Hmm, probably not. I’m looking forward to doing nothing and having some quiet time with Clyde.” There’s that name. David likes quiet. He doesn’t see what Gillian sees; the compatibility is lacking. The man is so quiet, so soft spoken. Gillian is the opposite. A lawnmower dashing over concrete.

“You won’t see any of these people for months.” What he means is, and he is certain it’s written on his face, is that she won’t see him for several months. Maybe it doesn’t bother her. Does it bother him? Why would it? In those long months he’s often wished he could just leave. Go and look into someone else’s face for a minute. But it’s her. It’s always her.

“Doesn’t bother me,” Gillian says, licking her lips and glancing at him, “I’ll see them all again. Won’t I? You’re the one who couldn’t wait to wrap. I didn’t know you were so sappy.” He isn’t, is he? Oh fuck, he is. David grants her a sheepish grin, a careless shrug. Just like the teenage-version of him she never got to know. Their lives before have not come up in conversations. Snippets have been shared briefly. Like her previous relationship with a woman. His time travelling the world – or his attempt to do so.

“Oh no,” he remarks, licking his lips too, “I’m looking forward to leaving all of this behind.” David puts emphasis on the all. Everything, his eyes are screaming. Including you.

“Have a good few months, David. Away from this.” Gillian gets up and it’s clear she doesn’t want to be up on her feet again. But her anger for him that’s zapping through her veins (he is certain he can see it; feel it even) is stronger than anything else. David knows this too; this need to hug her so tightly he’s afraid he might crush her, immediately replaced by the urge to push her away, as far as humanly possible. But right now they’re standing close and his hands are still in his pockets.

“I’ll see you in August,” Gillian says and he can taste her breath against his face. She gets on tiptoes and her hands curl around his bicep. Her lips touch his cheek, warm and gentle.

“You’ll be ready to pop by then,” David replies unable to keep his emotions in check. She nods with a soft, charming smile. She’s still close as if waiting. What if she wants this too? Does she feel the same longing? David doesn’t think. They both go for what they want. No expectations. They’ve fought it this long. He leans forward and down and then there are her lips, waiting for his.

They’ve kissed before. Little pecks of greeting, entirely meaningless and devoid of feeling. They’ve touched too, in much the same way. This kiss, this situation is something else. David knows it and he is certain Gillian does too. Their lips, as if acquainted, know how to do this. It’s as if they’ve completed their dry training and now it’s time to test their expertise. Only when he moves to deepen the kiss, his fingers digging into her hips, does she move away, end it.

“Just a kiss goodbye, David,” Gillian breathes, licking him off her lips with her eyes closed. “Nothing but a kiss goodbye.”

“Yes,” he replies stupidly, “That’s why I came in here. To say goodbye.” David stumbles over his words.

“That’s it,” Gillian says and he startles when she touches his face, “we work together. It’s normal to say goodbye.” She wipes her lipstick off his cheek, his lips. They stare at each other. He doesn’t know what this is. What this will turn into, if anything.

“See you next season?” David asks, his voice shaky. Remembering he’s an actor, he plasters a grin on his face for good measure.

“See you next season,” Gillian answers in a steady, soft voice, “Goodbye, David.”

That’s how it begins, that first year.


End file.
